


you've got to move along (you keep on holding on)

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Introspection, POV Keith (Voltron), Post Klance Break Up, Post-Break Up, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: hey if you clicked this, this is my official warning for you to go back. this is ?? kind of a weird fic. its basically a vent fic and very wanna-be angsty /: so... yeah. this might be a little confusing bc it was written in response/continuation to something someone wrote for me, so theres vague references to that..what else,,,i didnt tag it bc i dont necessarily want a lot of ppl reading this (but also my narcissism insisted i post it) but the setting for where keith is thinkin all this is a flower shop keith works at. i didn't rlly state it in the middle of all keiths angsting.uuuuuuuhhm thanks for reading i guess,,!also!! title is lyrics from Anabor's song Amarillo, which is rlly good so maybe check it out :3c ?





	you've got to move along (you keep on holding on)

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you clicked this, this is my official warning for you to go back. this is ?? kind of a weird fic. its basically a vent fic and very wanna-be angsty /: so... yeah. this might be a little confusing bc it was written in response/continuation to something someone wrote for me, so theres vague references to that.. 
> 
> what else,,, 
> 
> i didnt tag it bc i dont necessarily want a lot of ppl reading this (but also my narcissism insisted i post it) but the setting for where keith is thinkin all this is a flower shop keith works at. i didn't rlly state it in the middle of all keiths angsting. 
> 
> uuuuuuuhhm thanks for reading i guess,,!
> 
> also!! title is lyrics from Anabor's song Amarillo, which is rlly good so maybe check it out :3c ?

Keith knew the kind of person that he was, knew to an extent how his few friends perceived him and how sometimes he just did not care. He knew how he sometimes felt a disconnect between his thoughts and his steady pulse and changing his expression from impassivity took more effort than it should. 

Yeah, he knew the kind of person that he was. 

Yet it still surprised him how much of a coward he could be. 

It unsettled him how his mind could feel so far from his body as his heart raced and hands trembled. Keith didn’t understand how his mind could spin with thoughts of disaster and sabotaging all that was good for him with nothing physical to show for his turmoil. 

Keith hated the kind of person that he was. He hated being distant and nervous and his own worst enemy. He hated that he was the kind of person that walked away when the going got tough. He hated how willing he was to let go of what he loved, who he loved, just so he could stop feeling so out of his comfort zone. 

He hated thinking about the earnest hope and hesitancy in Lance’s tired eyes, grin shaky from behind the disaster of a bouquet. Keith despised remembering how he had promised himself he would do better, try more, for Lance, because he loved ( _ but _ , his thoughts offered him a scapegoat,  _ what if it isn’t romantic love? What if you two would be better goin’ your own separate ways _ ?) him and he didn’t want to lose him, didn’t wanna lose the easy conversation and years of shared jokes and being able to hold his clammy hands in his. 

He despised that he often questioned if he should disappear off the face of the earth or continue hovering by someone who could do so much better than the choked words of comfort Keith sometimes managed to coax out. 

It was so unfair that Keith wasn’t a book character; they always knew what to say, when to say nothing at all. Instead, he was just Keith, a boy in clothes too big for him and the same bangs from his middle school emo phase loosely holding the hand of  _ Lance _ , sun and rain boy with soft eyes and blue jeans and brown curls and emotions like a whirlwind. 

Keith had always thought the notion of opposites attracting as romantic, but lately, he had been wondering if maybe the way he was emotionally  _ stupid _ compared to Lance left a gap between them too wide to bridge. He wasn’t such a moron as to miss when Lance’s eyes flickered around red-rimmed, his smile thin-lipped and strained. When he rather put distance between himself and Keith because he knew Keith found emotional vulnerability uncomfortable. 

And Keith? Keith hated he had the audacity to feel hurt Lance didn’t trust him enough to unload his feelings to him while feeling relieved he didn’t have to struggle with trying to cheer him up. 

He hated that he was awful emotional support, which was the number one thing a partner should be, right? 

Lance could do better. 

Lance could do better than a week of radio silence when Keith’s terrible communication within their relationship was brought up. He could do better than Keith, who froze up when Lance said he wasn’t feeling too good and would keep to himself for a while. Deserved better than someone who offered a half-hearted “get better soon.” Better than someone who had no romantic bone in his body and lost the will to pretend he did. 

Lance deserved better than Keith, and Keith couldn’t understand why Lance hadn't seen it. He hadn’t understood the first time they broke up, but he was focused too much on the empty promises he was making himself, too focused on the future he had already envisioned with Lance, too focused on hoping he would not be the person who would leave Lance behind. Too focused on the second chance that seemed too good to be true. 

And it was. Because Keith didn’t change, and he lost the hope that he would. 

Lance deserved better, and it was all Keith could think about. Every thought that wasn’t about school or his own failures was about Lance-- about how he should let him go, let him heal over the wound that Keith was in his life so he could move on to someone better. Someone who would love him in the unconditional way Keith had never been able to. 

And god, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Lance had been his best friend, his right-hand man, for so long. He really thought he would have no life without Lance, yet there he was, brain full of reasons, of excuses, to separate Lance from himself. 

Keith pulled in a sharp breath, eyes trained to his heavy boots balanced on the metal rung of the stool he slumped on. For hours, he had been rolling a purple hyacinth -- mouth curled into a self-deprecating mockery of a smile -- between his fingers. The stem under his fingers was darkened as his motions wore the plant down, and some of its limp flowers settled on the floor beneath him. 

The flower was pretty and its color soothing. 

Keith hated it. Hated what it symbolized to him. Hated how he had ruined the meaning of the flower with his cheap apologies and hollow promises.  

Against his will, his eyes raised to the glass door of the flower shop, not expecting but hoping Lance would slide in, a smile dimpling his cheeks and eyes oh-so-warm. But he had ruined that privilege for himself. Keith dropped his gaze back to the flower and its bowed stem. 

He hated it and he hated himself. 

Face impassive, he allowed the flower to rest in his palm before he crushed it into a purple-green lump. Keith let it fall among the tiny flowers scattered at his feet, barely noting the smudges of purple and green left on his hand. 

Lance deserved better than someone he couldn’t fully trust, and he would see it once the ache of Keith passed. 

(His friends could finally trash-talk Keith as much as he always thought they would want to, Keith thought, one corner of his mouth turning up sharply. Then maybe he would see that Keith had never been who he needed.)


End file.
